


Inevitable (Swordfish/Interstate 60 crossover)

by sg_fic



Category: Interstate 60 (2002), Swordfish (2001)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Fuck Or Die, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_fic/pseuds/sg_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>O.W Grant is a modern American ‘genie’ equipped with a wish-granting pipe, who makes his patrons work hard for their wishes as they travel the mysterious Interstate 60. While trying to help two different men on two different quests, he concludes that their paths must cross—even though it’s going to be a messy, terrifying collusion. </p><p>Non-con. (And fluff. It’s a weird one.) Inspired and based on movie-verse Scott/Logan (and Storm ;)).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable (Swordfish/Interstate 60 crossover)

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll be the first to admit that I butchered the pleasantly odd Interstate 60 in favor of some scogan action, but I was weak and the boys were hot :D Non-con because it’s been a while, and fuck-or-die because it’s my favorite trope <3

 

‘Wish granting’ was such a general, romantic term.

O.W Grant wasn’t a genie. He wasn’t a leprechaun either, although his bright, fiery hair gave away his Irish heritage. If you’d ask him (and you wouldn’t—he’s only seen when he chooses to be seen, and never without a reason) he’d say that he was a regular joe who came to possess rather irregular powers.

As for him, he long stopped dwelling on his fortune, (or misfortune, depending on who you ask), and just accepted that the ancient monkey-head shaped pipe had held mysterious powers, and that he was the lucky son of a gun able to control it. Well, to a certain extent, anyway.

He was the man who got to send people in need of guidance to the metaphysical Interstate 60. If he liked them—then sometimes he’d journey alongside them, helping them come to terms with themselves. If he didn’t like them… well, in that case he may overlook a macabre twist, allowing a wish to manifest exactly as it was worded.      

If he _really_ liked them, (and he really liked Neal Oliver, the poor, blue-eyed, innocent devil) then he’d feel sorry for them, because when people made wishes that mattered—they were bound to suffer. Things that mattered required hard work, sacrifice even…

…and Neal Oliver asked for something that mattered a whole lot.

O.W. Grant had met Neal today, on his 22nd birthday. Neal’s family had gathered in his dad’s favorite restaurant to celebrate, and among the gifts and smiles, Grant, dressed as a waiter (oh, he had many faces), served Neal his birthday cake.

Seeing that Neal Oliver was a lost soul had been as easy as pie, and the pipe immediately lit up in anticipation. Grant encouraged Neal to make a wish, expecting one that’s entirely self-serving, just like everyone else’s, but when Neal blew out the candles he surprised him by telling everyone that he wished for an answer to his life.

 _Nice…_ Green smoke began billowing from Grant's pipe as the magical item came to life.

“I believe your answer is here,”

At the same time Neal’s father presumptuously handed his artistic son an acceptance letter to the law school he himself qualified from, but Grant only smiled.

_Oh, no, my friend. That won’t answer any of your son’s questions… that won’t explain why he finds it so hard to love his theoretically perfect girlfriend, why he doesn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, why there are nights when he unexpectedly bursts into tears—even though he considers himself a happy, lucky guy, born into money and without a care in the world. I’m afraid he’ll have to work hard and earn these answers—there are no envelopes with solutions for these kind of predicaments._

At the same time he felt sorry for the kid; the first step in his journey was a rather painful one, see.

It included a bucket falling on Neal’s head outside the restaurant (while he was pretending to like the flashy, red BMW convertible his dad bought him for his birthday) and knocking him out.

Under the pipe’s influence, Neal left the hospital (perhaps too soon), keyed the engine of his new car, and drove into Interstate 60, a place you wouldn’t find on any map.

Only Grant was beginning to grow impatient. Neal was awfully naïve… or very much in denial.

Interstate 60 had used up all of its heavy artillery, and Neal still didn’t get it…

It had sent a sexy, horny hitchhiker in a tiny, tiny skirt (who even told Neal that straight men found her irresistible), but Neal rejected sex without thinking twice; it had sent him to a museum dedicated to fraud art, trying to teach him the importance of authenticity and trusting your feelings; it had crossed his path with a mother who grieved ‘loosing’ her son to what truly made him happy—but eventually learned to accept him as he was because her love was stronger than anything; and it had paved Neal’s way with signs advertising his dream woman—only for him to keep missing out on her, hinting that such a woman did not exist when it came to Neal Oliver—and yet the goodhearted boy with his big innocent eyes was still waiting for ‘an answer’…

In his despair, Grant even offered to show Neal his privates (an offer Neal gladly accepted), joking that they were severed in an accident, but even the thrill of such an act didn’t make Neal understand. Heck if he wasn’t _the chosen one_ he might have taken the time to teach the clueless (and undeniably pretty) boy a thing or two himself, but he was needed elsewhere.    

To his defense, the good looking guy took it all like a sport, and always remained kind to the odd characters that occupied Interstate 60, which made Grant’s next move even harder on him—but he had no choice. As horrible as the journey awaiting him was, at the end of it Neal would find his answer.

Sad, he brought the pipe to his lips, then puffed on it, wishing Neal out of Interstate 60, and back in the real world. Back in L.A. to be specific.

There was a lonely, broken man there, who had struck a deal with the devil, unaware that the terrifying journey he was undergoing was the only way to make his wish come true.

The man, Stanley, had asked Grant for the right guy— though he hadn't counted on his wish leaving him in jail for two years, but so was life.

It was time to cross Neal Oliver’s and Stanley Jobson’s paths, and it was going to be one hell of a messy collusion.

“…oh, God…” Neal’s head was killing him, why on earth did he leave the hospital? He hadn’t the faintest idea; he couldn’t remember.

A cloud of grey smoke hung above his brand new car and the smell of burnt oil was heavy in the air. Muffled, loud music made him aware that he was parked outside of a nightclub. A payphone was just outside the club, but his wallet was missing…

He pushed the door open, and wobbly got out of the car. Did he crash it? Or overheat the engine? Again, he had no idea. Searching his pockets he found a dollar and a half in fifty cent coins and was about to limp to the telephone booth when all of a sudden—

“Sir?”

“Oh, god—you startled me!” Neal told the beggar.

“I’m sorry, but I was hoping you’d have a dollar fifty? It’s so cold tonight and I sure could use a hot drink.”

The beggar looked strangely familiar… he carried a sign reading he’d work for food and Neal felt terribly sorry for him… Then his eyes landed on the phone booth.

“I’m sorry, I really am, I’d love to help you but—”

“You don’t really mean it. I had people ignoring me all day long, you know. You’re not the first one to give me the flick today.”

The man was already turning his back on him and Neal’s shoulders sagged, “No, wait. Here, I got some money.”

“Why thank you, you’re a real decent guy—say what you mean, mean what you say! That’s always been my moto!” and the redheaded beggar winked, tucked his pipe into his mouth and took Neal’s money.

How odd… Neal was watching the man’s back for a long minute before he could shake himself out of it. Guess he’d have to ask the nightclub to use their phone.

 

“After you, gorgeous.” The woman who introduced herself as ‘Ginger’ held the door open for him and narrowed her eyes, her lips slightly parted.

 _You’re wasting your time lady,_ Stan thought as he followed her into the nightclub. For someone who made a living out of recruiting personal, she sure sucked at reading people. She wouldn’t be flirting with him otherwise; the only reason he agreed following her into the loud, dodgy L.A nightclub was because he was hoping to save a daughter he hardly knew (and was too drunk to remember conceiving) from a fate no woman deserved.

 _“Whoa!”_ Stan gasped as someone practically crashed into him, “Careful!” he pushed the stranger off when he saw the 6”2 guard that had obviously shoved him his way.

“Sorry!” the poor devil said and Stan’s eyes darted down—

Only to lock with the wide, terrified eyes of the stranger.

_Oh._

The kid was beautiful, and so very scared.

“Come here!” the guard grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and pulled the young man towards the exit.

“No, wait! I suffered a head injury and I think I left the hospital too soon, please—if I can just use your phone—”

But the guard’s hold on him was unrelenting, causing the kid’s top to roll up and reveal his smooth, wiry torso.

“Don’t—” he begged as the guard opened the door, but it didn’t stop the built man from throwing the kid out, in a manner that guaranteed he’d trip and fall backwards.

“Crackheads,” he grumbled as he slammed the door shut.

Stan was still gawking when Ginger pulled on his arm, “Come on. Gabriel doesn’t like to be kept waiting, I wouldn’t cross him if I were you.”

“After you… _gorgeous.”_ Stan stung but she only smiled and turned her back on him, then led him through the drunken crowd to the far end of the dance floor.

Stanley swallowed hard as he entered the backroom and took in the sight of his benefactor…

…but he’d die before admitting that Gabriel scared him as fuck.

There was something in his green eyes, something not… right, and Stanly immediately realized that he was in over his head… That even though Ginger had said that if he didn’t like the situation he could keep his money and leave, now that he was here his only options were to cooperate—or die.  

“Missed me?” she asked the seemingly mad man and moved into his arms for a kiss.

Great. The flirty bitch was the big boss’ girlfriend. Man was he fucked!

Helping his daughter… good luck helping himself. There wasn’t a man in the room not carrying a gun, and a top criminal like Gabriel asking to meet a top hacker like himself could only mean bad news.

“Stanley— Gabriel.” Ginger said, and Gabriel extended his hand,

“Big Stan, nice suit.”

“Thanks,” Reluctant, Stanley shook the offered hand, ignoring the insult. He recently got out of jail, he had every reason in the world to be broke! Then he almost sighed—as illegal and as dangerous as this job probably was, he needed the money (and not just for his daughter’s sake—if he was completely honest with himself).

“Sit down. A drink?”

Stanley took the offered glass, knowing that coming from Gabriel _‘a drink?’_ wasn’t really a question, knowing that even if they spiked the alcohol with god knew what—he’d still have to drink it. He could sugarcoat the truth all he wanted, but the moment he accepted their dirty money _‘just for a meeting’_ was the moment in which he sealed his fate and accepted the job. Now all that was left was staying alive, and obeying the big scary boss was probably a good place to start.

And yeah, the drink was spiked. He could smell it, he could taste it.

“Another!” Gabriel decreed with a wide, crazy smile—because now they both knew that the alcohol was spiked, and that Stanley had no choice but to be a good boy about it. He knocked back his second shot quickly, trying not to overthink it—surely Gabriel needed him alive and well… or so he hoped. Gabriel was cueing his guys to fetch Stanley another drink and hoping to postpone the inevitable he risked saying,

“I flew 1500 miles for this meeting, how about we get to the point?”

It worked, momentarily the glass was forgotten.

“No. Actually you flew 1500 miles for a 100 grand.” Gabriel smiled, making himself comfortable and lighting a cigar, taking his time, reminding Stanley that he was his; he bought him, “But that’s not enough, isn't it? Earning close to nothing and living in a shoe box in Texas, 100 grand will get you nowhere. You need more… Wire’s _‘man of the year’_ turned-hacker, must be a bitch falling so fast, hitting rock bottom so hard?”  

Stanley didn’t reply; there was no point in telling the man that he was innocent—if the juries didn’t believe him then he sure as hell wouldn’t. He just gritted his teeth in annoyance and pulled on his suddenly too tight collar. 

“Stan? You okay there?” Gabriel mocked.

What the hell did they put in his drink? The room began feeling incredibly hot… sweat was beginning to cover his brow, and an unpleasant pulse began in his lower abs… in his inner thighs… in his… aw, shit!

Gabriel was laughing seeing that understanding dawned.

“Helga. Meet Stanley.”

One of Gabriel’s working girls approached him and Gabriel’s bodyguard pulled out a chair for her. She took a seat next to Stanley, her cheap perfume hurting his now sensitive senses.

“I don’t have patience for this,” Stanley began, real alarm tightening his chest, but Gabriel cut him short,

“That’s too bad, but you don’t get to leave just yet,” He made a hand gesture and his bodyguard set down a laptop in front of Stan. “What do you think?”

Stanley looked at the screen. It was the department of defense log-in screen.

“You know I can’t touch this.”

He couldn’t afford going back to prison… but they both knew that he couldn’t afford disobeying Gabriel either… oh, god, what has he done?

“Right, Big Stan. Thing is you want something from me and I want something from you. The D.O.D data base, 128-bit encryption, what do you say? Impossible?”

“Nothing is impossible!” Stanley answered, pissed. The drug in his drink gave him an unpleasant, painful hard-on that pushed and rubbed against the fly of his jeans, making it hard to think. ‘Helga’ was kissing his neck, but he was hot and irritable and all he wanted was to get her off.

“Think you can slide a worm into that?”

“Is this a job interview?”

“Maybe… Helga?”

“Do you like tequila Staley?” she asked and drank a shot. Before Stanley knew it she moved in for a kiss, holding his head and pressing hard against his lips while letting the tequila spill out of her mouth.

Disgusted, Stanley pushed her off and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. All he could think of were STDs and was happy for the cleansing alcohol she used in an ill attempt to turn him on.

“Oh yeah. Of course.” Gabriel smiled, and his smile… Stanley could feel the drop of his stomach at the sight; the man was up to no good. “Marco, give him some incentive.”

And suddenly, one of Gabriel’s thugs grabbed him, forced his hands behind his back and held him down.

“What are you doing?!” Stanley demanded, feeling sick with arousal and the cheap alcohol going to his head. Helga was unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans, and the thought of a prostitute going down on him was making him feel physically ill—hysteria began mixing with his anger and fear.

“Relax Stanley, you’re in good hands… I got you all figured out.” And Gabriel nodded towards the door. His bodyguard left the room and the criminal followed him with his green, crazy eyes, puffing on his cigar while awaiting his return…

…only he didn’t come back alone… he was forcefully dragging someone into the backroom—

_What the hell?!_

Stanley recognized the young man, it was the poor kid that got kicked out of the club earlier. The bodyguard shoved him into the room and the pretty boy tripped and fell, only to quickly rise back to his feet, his eyes wide with fear.

 _Ah, shit._ Pained, Stanley closed his eyes.

Up close it was obvious that the kid got beaten up. A bruise was beginning to form on one of his sharp cheekbones and his full bottom lip was beginning to swell.

“See, Ginger here thinks everybody wants her.” The madman studied his face with a penetrating, knowing gaze, “…and in 99% of the cases she’s right. But me? I’m more perceptive than most.” Gabriel rose to his feet and moved towards the frightened boy. At the same time his body guard cocked his gun and aimed it to the kid’s auburn head.

“You liked what you saw, didn’t you?” Gabriel asked Stan while dragging the kid’s shirt up, exposing his boyish, pale torso for all to see.

“Please…” tears were running down the kid’s face, “…please…”

But it only made Gabriel’s smile grow wider. He pulled a knife out of his pocket, extended the blade, and, after the terrified kid tried stepping back only to get smacked and held down by the bodyguard, sliced the kid’s top in two while the boy cried and begged.

“Shh, shh, shh…” Gabriel forcefully cupped his face and held the kid’s terrified gaze, “just like we agreed—give my friend head and you’re off the hook; you can use our phone and everything.” He released the sobbing boy’s face and started searching his pockets instead.

“We found his wallet outside the club.” One of his thugs supplied, seeing his efforts.

“Driving license?”

“Yep, name’s Neal Oliver.”

“Ah. Tell me Neal Oliver,” Gabriel was undoing the younger’s man fly and dragging his jeans down to the floor, “Ever sucked cock before?”

 _“No… please…”_ Neal wept.

“Shh.”

_“Please—”_

But Gabriel ignored him and removed his boxer shorts’ leaving him butt naked in the middle of the room.   

“Hey! Eyes on the prize!” the madman suddenly shouted, making Stan jump—he was averting his gaze, admittedly turned on by the kid’s good looks even under the circumstances.

He knew that it was the drug’s influence, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that if they’d force the kid to go down on him—Stan’s body was going to betray him… miserably so. His cock was stiffening in sweet, tight anticipation—and Gabriel knew. He knew exactly.

“Come here,” he pushed the boy, shoving him roughly until he practically threw him down to his knees, between Stan’s spread out legs.

The kid was even prettier up close, blue eyes bright and wide with fear, sharp cheekbones bruised and wet with tears… he didn’t look a day over 21 and Stanley felt a strong urge to gather him into his arms and kiss it all better. Instead, with his hands forced behind his back and the kid’s head so close to his groin he found himself hardening until it hurt.

 “I have been told, that the best crackers in the world can do this in 60 minutes.” Gabriel set the laptop right in front of Stan, bringing him back to the present, “Unfortunately, I need someone who can do this in five.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Afraid not. Drink this,” The madman smiled and brought the forgotten glass to Stan’s lips. At the same time Stan felt a cold barrel pressed to his head.

Already horny and painfully aroused, he tried negotiating, tried shaking his head no, but Gabriel pressed the sharp edge to his lips so forcefully that he found himself drinking before he knew it, his body instinctively understanding the warning in the rough act.

“And… go!”

‘Marco’ released his hands, and at the same time Gabriel’s bodyguard cocked the gun he aimed at him, advising Stan without words not to try anything foolish.

Five minutes was ridiculous, but with a loaded gun pressed to his temple Stan was typing away before he knew it, ignoring the way Helga was dragging his briefs off. She took hold of his painful hard-on, but Stan’s entire world had narrowed to the gun pressed to his head… at least until Helga started stroking his cock with expert, firm tugs.

Hissing, he looked down in time to see her guiding the boy’s head to the already wet tip of his hard cock.

“Don’t cry, gorgeous. Calm down. The better the blowjob the sooner you’ll be home free.” Helga cooed in Neal’s ear.

“4:30” Gabriel read, and Stanley turned his attention back to the screen.

 ** _‘Int.baseport=-1 char.buffer[200] long.read-config=confic-rec. long.total=1’_** he typed so fast the pads of his fingers hurt—and **_enter_** _,_

_ACCESS DENIED_

_“Damn it,”_ he quietly cursed and began typing again.

 “I don’t know how to do this…” he heard the boy say, his beautiful voice so earnest and, well— _young,_ that Stan felt a strong pang of guilt at the way sweet anticipation filled him.

“Just lick it baby boy,” Helga brought the hand-job to an end and guided Stan’s hard cock to Neal’s ever so soft lips. “That’s it, stick out your tongue.”  

 _Mm!—_ Breath hitching Stanley could barely suppress a loud moan; the kid’s mouth was so hot and wet, his velvety tongue swiping along the head of his cock just the way Stan liked it and his dick twitched painfully, pleasure shooting all the way up his spine and down his legs.

“3:50!” Gabriel gloated, and needing to focus Stan clapped his hands forcefully, hoping the sudden sting would help clear his head.

 ** _‘int.broad.chip.unit-t. long.total=0,last.board=-1,last.chip=-1’_** and **_enter_** _,_

  _ACCESS DENIED_

_“Ahh- - aw!“_

Neal was delivering slow, melting licks along his shaft and to his shame Stan began panting loudly, uncontrollably. God the kid’s mouth was so damn hot… it felt so good on his dick… but at the same time he wondered if the kid was sick or high; the only time anyone’s mouth felt so hot and wet on him was when the guy he’s been with had playfully drank tea before (and while) giving him head.

“Lick his balls,” Helga guided the inexperienced boy, and Stanley had to close his eyes. Her instructions filled him with anticipation, making it even hotter when the boy started to shyly and gently caress his balls with his tongue. He used his lips too, kissing him tenderly between melting licks, the light touch equally tickling and stimulating.

“Now use your fingers.” Helga said, and Neal began drawing careful circles on the sensitive skin of Stan’s testicles with his thumbs. He must have been a natural because he was surprisingly skillful with his hands and mouth… kid knew exactly how to touch him and the pleasure became too damn intense—Stan could barely think.

“Careful with your teeth, gorgeous—stick out your tongue some more… oh, yeah—you’re getting him real good…”

Kid really got him, Stan felt dizzy with intense, raw pleasure… but it wasn’t his fault! The drug intensified everything… With sweat rolling down his brow and his eyes half closed Stanley watched Helga move in to whisper in Neal’s ear and the boy let go of his balls and reached for his—

_—OhGod!_

For a terrifying moment Stan thought that she told him to force unlubricated fingers into him, but his relief was short-lived. Neal pressed two fingers into that tempting little mouth of his and sucked on them real good before pulling them out and sending them, hot, wet and glistening, to that sensitive spot behind Stan’s balls… then Neal began massaging him in small, gentle circles.

“No--stop--” Stanley begged as the kid worked that sweet, hidden spot of his, but his face must have told a different story because Helga said “Harder” and Neal added pressure to his strokes making Stan jerk as he nearly came. He was clenching and unclenching his ass so hard it hurt—

_“—Please!”_

Stanley Jobson always considered himself a top, but in the few seldom times that he bottomed it was with someone who had found his sweet spot and worked it just right. His body was wired that way and the need to be penetrated was undeniable now. It must have been the drug talking, but the kid looking so damn inexperienced made the idea of riding him hard even hotter somehow.

“2:20” Gabriel warned, reminding him where he was, and Stan tried opening his eyes but he couldn’t focus on the god-damn screen. On top of everything, the last shot he was forced to drink was now beginning to mess with his head making him ever so dizzy!

He wanted to hurl the laptop across the room and take hold of Neal’s head, fuck his hot, wet mouth senseless. He wanted to go back in time and throw Ginger off a cliff instead of hearing her out, he wanted to break free and take Neal to a doctor, see why he was burning up the way that he did, press an ice compress to his bruised cheek, get him to a god-damned phone and get him home… he wanted to crack the fucking code and come so hard in Neal’s mouth he’d be heard outside the club, then ride him till the kid screamed his name, and he wanted to fucking be able to focus on the god-damn screen so that they both wouldn’t end up dead!

“1:50”

“Take his dick in darling, don’t be afraid. Now just suck on it, get him real wet.”

 ** _‘chip-cth-cp,file-fp,cp=chip.array’_** _…_ Stanley typed, then threw his head back, face twitching in throes of pleasure. Kid sucked cock like a pro… and the drug made it so much better…

“0:40”

**_‘f[cp!=null]exirerr[chip.array.base]’_ _enter_** _—_

_ACCESS DENIED_

_Piece of shit—_

**_‘f[cp-1=null]exirerr[chip.array.base,not.null]’ enter_ ** _—_

  _ACCESS DENIED_

_Fuck—_

“Twenty seconds!”

**_‘f-1[cp=null]exirerr.chip.file[chip.array.base.not.null]file-pf’_ **

_“Ten! Five! Three, two—”_

**_‘f[cp!=null]exirerr=chip]’_ **

_Enter—_

_ACCESS GRANTED_

Stan practically threw the laptop Gabriel’s way,

“Oh, yeah…” Gabriel looked genuinely impressed, and for a moment he finally fell silent.

 _—God!_ Stan looked down; Helga had her fingers entwined in the kid’s hair. She was encouraging him to move up and down, his full lips stretched around Stanley’s thick length, his eyes closed, dark eyelashes fluttering.

Stanley rested his hands on the kid’s shoulders but didn’t dare pushing him away without Gabriel’s permission; 

“I cracked your code, make it stop!” he forced himself to say. As good as it felt—the kid was under gun threat and he’d never forgive himself if he reached an orgasm.

“It stops when you come in his mouth.” Gabriel said indifferently, his bodyguard never removing the gun from Stan’s head.

“For—ahh, for fucks sake – he’s just a kid!”

“22 today, he’s legal – isn’t it so birthday boy?” The thug holding the kid’s wallet threw a card into the air as if it was confetti. Stan could only assume it was Neal’s driving license and his heart broke for the kid who was getting raped by him on his birthday—no less.

“Please—” Stan began, but Neal did this thing with his tongue and he was forced to throw his head back and hiss—almost… oh, god he was so close… he didn’t want it to happen—not this way.

“I don’t want this… please get him off me…”

“You don’t want to come in his mouth?” Gabriel asked, and Stanley recognized a trick question when he heard one, but Neal was swirling his wicked, talented tongue around the head of his cock and firmly pressing his nimble fingers against that spot that made Stan want to rub his g-spot on a hard, thick cock and Stanley Jobson may be a hacker _but_ _he was no rapist—_

 _“—NO! OFF! GET HIM OFF!”_ Stanley shouted as his cock swelled and his ball drew close to his body—

Neal stopped, and Stan could hear his own broken voice as he shouted in pain. Being denied an orgasm just as he was crossing the edge was painful and horrible on any given day, let alone when he was drugged and so very aroused.

For the longest moment he just panted, too scared to open his eyes. Sweat rolled down his face and chest. The room was completely silent.

 _“…Stanley…”_ Gabriel intoned, and Stan could _hear_ the man was smiling a wide, crazy smile. Reluctant, he opened his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Stan was right about his smile. What he failed to predict was the way the green eyes were full of glee.

“I’m… Just… g-get that t-thing away from me!” panting, Stan demanded through gritted teeth; the god-damned pistol was still aimed his way. His cock was still pulsing unpleasantly, hard and hot.

“You don’t look very comfy there, Stan.” Ignoring him, Gabriel’s smile grew wider, “and since you turned down a perfectly good blowjob, we’ll just have to find another way to put you out of your misery.”

And Stanley paled, eyes wide with shock—was the man going to kill him?!

Then Gabriel spoke and Stanley’s relief mixed with horror,

“You don’t want to come in his mouth? Fine. Give it to him doggy style instead.”

“Please, I don’t want to do this—”

“I’m paying you 3,333 dollars per minute tonight—I don’t care what you want. I care about what _I_ want, and I want to see you balls-deep in that kid. Besides… from the looks of it you want to alright.” Gabriel laughed soundlessly, green eyes raking Stan’s body, his obvious hard-on.

They brought a mattress from god knew where and set it in the middle of the room for them to use, urging the kid to wait for Stanley on all fours by holding a gun to his head once more.

The kid, Neal, was crying again and Stanley felt as angry as he was aroused, as sickened as he wanted to come.

“Well?” Gabriel gestured at the boy.

“Why?” Stan hung his head in misery and despair, still unable to take his position behind the kid.

“Because no one disobeys me. There’s a lesson to be learned here, Stan. Want to see what happens if you don’t fuck him?”

“I’ll do the job for free, I’ll pay you back your 100,000. Just please—” then behind Gabriel’s back he caught Ginger’s wide, haunted eyes. She shook her head _‘no’_ ever so quickly, then gestured at the kid with her head and bit her lower lip. Forming a gun with a finger and thumb she pretended to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

He’d kill him, she told Stanley without words, making a hard decision his only choice.

“…okay,” defeated, Stanley closed his eyes, fighting off the tears that threatened to spill. He had a feeling that any signs of weakness on his behalf would anger the madman and he’d take it out on Neal, “…okay…” he repeated, stalling for time, trying to phrase his words so that they wouldn’t rub Gabriel the wrong way. He looked up at the man, “But I want him to enjoy it, I won’t be able to get off with him crying like that.”

“Better give it to him good, then.” Gabriel smiled, his eyes glistening in a way that made Stan wonder if the sick bastard was getting turned on by all this.

“Only it’s his first time and all of these people are watching,”

“Yeah?” the madman chuckled, “Well I’m not going anywhere.”

“I didn’t say that… Give him a drink.”

“Oh?!” the thick eyebrows arched in mock shock, “You want me to drug him?”

“Yes.” Stanley ignored the laughter, the sheer glee in the small, green eyes.

Gabriel hissed as he pretended to think hard, “I don’t know… like you said he’s so very young… then again I can’t think of a better birthday gift than sex _and_ drugs… I think you got yourself a deal!”

He whispered something to one of his men and was immediately handed a tall glass of alcohol, but when Stanley reached out for it the madman drew it back, “Nah ah.”

Confused Stanley waited, and this time held still when the madman leaned forward… then pressed the cup to his lips.

He was about to protest they were overdosing him when Gabriel said “Well? Give it to him.”

And understanding, Stanley wished the man dead. At the same time he took a large swig and didn’t swallow it.

Looking at Neal he saw that the blue eyes were fixated on him, as if the boy was trying to narrow his world just to Stan—to the only man in the room who actually gave a damn. Ironically it was the same guy that was about to rape him.

Swearing he’d put the kid first and make sure Neal made it out alive he got up, stepped out of his boxers and pants which pooled at his feet, and kneeled in front of the frightened, naked boy.

He didn’t want to force him, but he also didn’t have a lot of time before his gag reflex kicked in, making him swallow the liquor himself—only Neal proved himself smarter and braver than Stanley gave him credit for.

Rising to his knees the boy wrapped his arms around Stan’s neck and moved in until their lips touched. Gently cupping the bruised cheeks Stanley repositioned the boy until his head was tipped back. He then increased the pressure against the younger’s man mouth and Neal parted his full lips allowing Stanley to kiss him, a deep, intoxicating, alcohol flavored kiss.

Tongues still dueling, he lowered them both to the mattress, until he was covering the lithe body with his own. Sending hands to the back of Neal’s tights he guided his legs apart until the younger man was straddling him.

All along he pressed in deep, forcing Neal to thoroughly suck on his tongue, wanting him to swallow every last drop of booze and euphoriant drug he had to give.

It worked. Stanley was already rock hard and throbbing against Neal, and the longer they kissed, the harder the younger man got as well.

 _“I’m sorry.”_ Breaking the kiss he moved to whisper in Neal’s ear while pretending to only lick and nib on it.

 _“Not your fault,”_ Neal whispered back, _“for what it’s worth you have my permission to do whatever you need.”_

Stan’s chest tightened in resentment, but it wasn’t the time to explain to the kid that of course his consent mattered—that right then it mattered the world.

 _“I’ll be careful, try and relax.”_ And he captured the full lips once more, while stroking Neal’s face, his arms, his ribs…

Their kiss was only interrupted when Helga set down a small tray on the mattress beside them. It contained condoms and lube, and following Neal’s wide blue eyes closely, Stanley found himself hugging the younger man to his chest to keep him from panicking.       

 _“I’ll be gentle,”_ he quietly promised against Neal’s hair then planted a kiss on the soft, messy locks. At the same time he caught Ginger glaring at him _hard_ , her lips pursed into a tight line.

Now what?

She gestured towards Gabriel and Stanley saw the sweet anticipation on his face, like a man about to hit jackpot… suddenly it occurred to him.

The man said doggy-style… if he took Neal now it would still count as disobeying him. Neal would still die.

 _“Hey…”_ he whispered against Neal’s ear, _“I’m gonna need you on all-fours, kay?”_   

He didn’t know what to expect, but being ever so brave Neal simply complied.

Relieved, Stan didn’t dare to look at Gabriel and gauge his response. Instead he made a quick job of tearing a condom open with his teeth. Settling behind Neal he squeezed lube onto his fingers—

“Skip it.” Gabriel barked and there was no mistaking his anger at being out smarted.

Heart sinking at his inability to prepare the kid, Stanley coated his cock instead. He was so hard that even his own hand felt like heaven right then, and when he leaned against Neal and pressed his dick between the round buttocks he couldn’t help the desperate pants that escaped his lips.

“Easy.” He guided as he found what he was looking for and began sinking in, biting his lips to keep from coming—Neal was incredibly tight, so very hot… and the drug made Stan a lot more sensitive down there.

 _Easy,_ he was now telling himself _, in and out, nice and easy…_

By the time he was balls deep in Neal’s ass he was covered in sweat and shaking with the effort of not reaching an orgasm. He had a feeling it would still count as disobedience in Gabriel’s book.

_“You okay?”_

_“…yeah.”_

He reached around; the kid was still hard.

“Is that okay?” He began slowly moving his hips, then bit his lips till it hurt to keep from coming.

 _“…feels good.”_ Was the heated reply, much to Stanley’s relief.

“Don’t!” he ordered as the kid began moving against him, meeting his carefully measured thrusts. Just barely hanging in there as it was, Stanley wanted to take it slow for both his and Neal’s sakes, but his control was eroding quickly and Neal didn’t help,

“Then please… move?”

“I don’t want to hurt you—you’re drugged kid, you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“And you have no idea how good rubbing on your dick feels,” Neal clenched around him, making Stan moan incoherently. It sealed his fate; losing what little control he still had, Stan’s hips began moving, delivering vigorous, uncontrollable thrusts, and Neal moaned rhythmically and moved against him—this time Stan let him, he was so close it made no difference anyway and his fingers dug so deep into Neal’s hips they were bound to leave marks.

 _“…I’m… coming—”_ The boy managed to warn before he was shocked into a fierce, drug induced orgasm, his ass squeezing Stan so tightly the older man shouted—his balls drew to his body, then pleasure like nothing he’d known shot up his spine and down his legs, making his toes curl as he ejaculated.

 _—Deeper!,_ his mind desperately begged as he came, and he briefly pulled out only to slam himself back in, pure ecstasy making him press so hard against Neal his hands shook with the effort of holding him down.

 _Oh,_ _god—_ he didn’t want it to end—he wanted to be able to plow Neal’s tight, virginal ass every minute of every day for the rest of his life, he wanted to give it to him without rubber so that he could feel Neal’s body heat, feel the sleek lube, fill him with jizz, come so deep up his ass he’d be his for days, leave love bites all over the pale shoulders and neck, hold him in his arms till morning then make love to him again…

…his orgasm began to subside and tenderness mixed with his otherwise dirty train of thoughts. Neal still felt too hot for his liking and suddenly he wanted for him to see a doctor as urgently as he wanted to come but mere seconds ago.

He pulled out of the kid and gathered him, sweaty and panting, into his arms—hiding his naked body from the group of criminals surrounding them.

Gabriel looked both angry and amused, and most definitely insane.

“Well good news Big Stan,” he rose to his feet and moved to stand by the mattress, “you got the job!” he then kneeled, too close for comfort, and reached out for Neal, making Stan tense. The boy had his back on Gabriel, face burrowed in the crook of Stan’s neck, and Gabriel cupped his left buttock possessively making him jerk hard, “On to other news,” he said while squeezing and massaging the pale, boyish ass, and Stan strengthened his hold on Neal—wordlessly guiding him to tolerate the humiliating touch for as long as needed, “…there was nothing in the drink you gave him. Just 0.5 percent alcohol that wouldn’t even get a girl like Helga wet.” He began running his hand up, tracing Neal’s spine until he grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair and _pulled,_ violently forcing his head back, “guess we just found ourselves a slutty gay bitch, because I’ve never seen anyone taking it up the ass and enjoying it quite as much. You lasted what? A whole minute before you came on his dick?”

 He tugged at Neal’s hair, hurting the boy—letting him know that he demanded an answer.

“…yeah.”

“Yeah what? You enjoyed riding his cock? Stan’s a big guy, did you like that?”

“Yes.”

 _“Tell me!”_ He forced his head further back until Neal said,

“Yes I enjoyed riding his cock…”

“More.”

“…I liked that he was big…” but the hand in his hair only tightened, “…it… it didn’t hurt. Felt like heaven taking a large cock up the ass…”

“Go on.”

“…felt like that’s what I’ve been waiting for all along… getting fucked like that…” another tug, “…feeling the slam of another guy’s balls while I take it doggy style…”

“Yeah? Turned you on feeling Stanley that way?”

“…yes.” Neal admitted in a small voice.

“Think you’d want to do it again?”

“With him?" restrained, Neal swallowed hard, fierce blush creeping up his neck "…yeah.”

Gabriel chuckled, “Only with Big Stan? You don’t want to try any other cocks? See what other men have to offer?”

“No. Only him.” And this time there was no hesitation in his voice.

“Aww that’s very sweet.” But Gabriel’s mad eyes were full of anger and hate, “Tell me you’re a gay whore.”

“…please…” for the first time since the humiliating interrogation began tears glistened on Neal’s dark eyelashes and Stan wished Gabriel dead.

“I want to hear you say it. Stanly was drunk and heavily drugged but preferred blue balls over fucking you—while you took a beating for foreplay and still enjoyed his big, thick cock like a bitch in heat. Tell me you’re a gay little piece of shit whore.”

Ignoring the physical pain inflicted on him Neal kept silent—but he was playing straight into Gabriel’s hands while the hardest part was behind them—they just needed to survive a short while longer... So with his arms still around the boy Stan gave him the world’s tinniest jerk, encouraging him to cooperate.

“…I’m a… gay piece of shit whore.” Tears rolled down the chiseled cheeks and Gabriel was going to pay for them, for every last single one.

“Well that settles it, you may now fuck the whore,” Gabriel laughed while rising to his feet, “You start on Monday by the way, be here nine a.m. sharp.” And as he turned to leave his entire entourage rose as well. Ginger was carefully avoiding Stan’s gaze and while he hated her for recruiting him, he realized she was in no position to refuse Gabriel herself, and appreciated what she did to save Neal’s life. No, it wasn’t her he was after. Only _him._

The drinks, guns and laptop were taken. A minute later they were just two naked guys on a mattress in the backroom of a club.

_ _

“…what are you doing?”

It was the first thing Neal said since they left the doctor’s office. He really was feverish and was given antibiotics and paracetamol as well as a referral to do more tests, but when Stan offered to take him to the train station the guy refused leaving his side. He looked borderline hysteric and while Stan wrote it off to ptsd, he had no choice but to take Neal to the internet café with him.

“Just downloading some files.” Stan said while plugging in a disk-on-key.

“You’re going up against him, aren’t you?”

“Idiot let me use his own private laptop, it would be a crime not to.”

“You could just run away. Stay low for a while instead of going up against such a powerful criminal.”

 _“He’s going to pay for what he’s done to you!”_ Stan growled, jaw tight, eyes blazing.

But Neal blushed hotly, guilt twisting his guts… he needed for Stanley to understand, “…only it was true… all of the things that he made me admit… they were all true.” Ashamed, he confirmed that yes, he enjoyed sex with Stanley even under the humiliating circumstances. Being penetrated by the knowing, great looking guy felt so much better than making love to a woman ever did, and it scared him—but also excited him; in spite of it all, in Stan’s present he felt strangely at peace… in a way that he hadn’t in the past 22 years. In a way he’d desperately hoped he’d one day feel.   

“You need to—“ Stan began but Neal already recognized that tone of voice.

“—I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Right. Neal, listen to me, I know that you think you got a thing for me, but you were drunk and—“

“From that one sip of alcohol?”

“You were under gun threat!”

“Didn’t make making love to you any less pleasant.”

“That…” Stan almost laughed, but he had a feeling that if he’d start it may come out as ugly sobs, “That was _not_ making love kid… your first time shouldn’t have happened that way.”

“Show me how, then.” Neal asked of him, the big, blue eyes so earnest, so naïve in spite of what happened, that Stan felt physical pain in his chest.

“…I can’t. Hey… don’t be like that—it’s not that I don’t want to. But, this?” he held up the disk on key, “This can send Gabriel to prison for many, many years. The minute he realizes he suffered a security breach there wouldn’t be a safe place for me in town, no hotel I can check into, no atm I can use... Trust me, there’s nothing I’d rather do than take you someplace nice, get some food in you, maybe get some sleep,” he stifled a yawn even while he said the words, it’s been a long, sleepless night, “but—“

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, my ma always said it’s my worst trait, always said _O.W Grant you should learn how to mind your own businesses,_ is what she said.”

Stanley blink hard, he could swear they were all alone in the cafe but a moment ago. The ginger looked familiar, but he couldn’t for the life of him put a name to his face—and he was usually good with faces.

"Couldn't help but overhear that you gents need a discreet place to stay, and it just so happen that I run the Wishing Well across the road, pay by the hour—no ID needed!"

"Um…" Stan blinked, confused and wary… but the guy looked decent enough and beside him Neal was nodding vigorously. Not that he could blame him; they were both so very tired… and he still smelt of smoke and Helga’s cheap perfume, he could sure use a shower… "Yeah. Okay. Thanks."

"Good! Let me walk you there!"

Eyes still narrowed in disbelief, Stanley rose to his feet, keeping Neal at arm’s reach. Together they followed the stranger out.

Sitting in the reception O.G Grant drew on his pipe and exhaled slowly. He rarely got to enjoy any leisure time, but then again he rarely got to fulfill two wishes in a single day.

In their private bedroom above his head the two men were making love, slowly, tenderly, in a way that was deprived from them earlier that day.

Both felt inexplicably happy, and Grant smiled. Even if they didn't understand it just yet, Neal had found the answer to his life and Stanley had found the right guy.

He had a feeling (and his feelings were rarely off) that in a year from today the new lovers would want to celebrate their anniversary at the Wishing Well, but when they'd search for it they'll find such a place never existed.   

He had a feeling that they would never stop looking for it, not even as a married couple, then later as parents and grandparents…

…that maybe one day they'll find it again, when they're grey and old and still very much in love, and it warmed his heart.

He cradled his pipe and chuckled softly.

Biding the unaware men his farewell, he got up to leave.

Outside the reception’s windows interstate 60 looked ever so peaceful and calm.

 

The End.


End file.
